


The Spellsinger

by Serriya (Keolah)



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Action/Adventure, Dimension Travel, Drama, Gen, Original Universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-01-01
Updated: 1998-01-01
Packaged: 2017-11-13 13:57:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,266
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/504230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Keolah/pseuds/Serriya
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the world of Khizsalr, a group of Terrans seek the aid of an Archmage against a dangerous foe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spellsinger

It was a comparatively quiet day in Nanveth Province. The cold wind shook the branches of the evergreens, and snow covered the mountains to the east. Ellen was not comforted, however. She was very troubled. Riding eastward seeking help for her friends had brought her through six provinces and through the Towers of as many Archmages, but she had yet to find one willing to assist her cause. Spurring her horse forward, Ellen came within sight of the next Tower. Nervous in spite of her faint hope, she wearily guided her mare toward the granite fortress.

Ellen came to the gate and dismounted. "Well, here goes nothing," she murmured as she guided her horse under the portcullis. A tunnel lit only by little white stones stretched onward. Having no choice but to proceed or give up her quest, Ellen strode boldly forward.

Nothing happened at first. Then, as she was coming to a closed portcullis, she heard the first one slam to the ground with a clang, trapping her inside. Ellen was fully within the Archmage's power now. Just as she was thinking that she might not be allowed to proceed, the iron grating before her slowly clattered open, permitting her to proceed.

Ellen located the stable easily enough, so she left her horse there. She entered the main part of the Tower. There she found an unkempt man meticulously chopping herbs.

"Excuse me, where could I find the Master of this Tower?" asked Ellen politely.

The man stopped chopping and looked up at her. She noticed that he smelled slightly of sheep. "I am the Archmage Rohar."

"I'm sorry, I took you to be an apprentice," Ellen stuttered, surprised.

Rohar shrugged. "Don't worry about it. It's an easy mistake to make. Please, sit down. My Tower is, for the time being, your home. Would you like some tea?"

"I--I--"

The Archmage strode over to the teakettle and grabbed a cup. "It's an herbal blend made from plants native to this area." He poured the black liquid into the cup and handed it to Ellen. "Hope you like it."

Ellen tentatively tasted the drink. Her eyes opened wide. "It's delicious!"

"I don't think you came here to sample the tea, though," Rohar smiled. "Which of the provinces do you wish passage to? Illono, Hilddmei, or Liduru?"

"Actually, I'm looking for help."

"Oh?" Rohar raised an eyebrow.

Ellen took a deep breath. "First and foremost, I need a place of refuge for I and my friends."

"You have it. Bring your friends here, and no one shall harm them."

"And secondly, we need help to stop a man."

"Who?" wondered Rohar.

"He calls himself Zaad. Whether that is his real name or not I really don't know."

"Zaad? Never heard of him," the Archmage scratched his bare chin. He couldn't have been older than twenty-five. "If he were a mage of any repute, I would at least know something about him. I try to keep abreast of the happenings in this region. You must have ridden hard to get ahead of the news."

"I did," Ellen admitted. "We're desperate."

"Have you any way to contact your friends to direct them here?" asked Rohar gently.

The woman shook her head. "I have not seen them since they sent me east to look for help two weeks ago. They scattered, hoping to avoid Zaad, but he visits and subdues every province. He may be heading this way."

"We can use my magic to contact them. All I need is the name and some unique identification item, and if they're within ten provinces of here we'll be able to speak with them."

Dubious, Ellen replied, "All right. How about Ocsid first? He's very distinctive. He carries around these magic headphones."

Rohar directed her over to a mirror hanging from the wall. "Stand there as I speak the spell."

Ellen sighed and stood in the indicated position as Rohar murmured unintelligible words. Then the mirror fogged and her image was replaced by that of her old friend Ocsid.

"Ellen? Where are you? Did you find help?"

"Yes. Come quickly to Rohar's Tower."

Ocsid's image looked puzzled. "Where's that?"

"Where are you right now?"

"Somewhere in Liduru Province," replied the man.

"Head northeast. You should eventually end up at this Tower."

"All right, Ellen. If you say so."

The image broke up, and the mirror resumed it's normal reflection.

"Who next?" asked the Archmage Rohar.

This process continued for the next few hours as Ellen and Rohar briefly contacted each of the others. Finally, Ellen couldn't think of any other Terrans in this region of Khiszalr.

"I think that's all."

"Excellent. Now tell me more about this Zaad."

"I really--"

A resounding clang reverberated throughout the Tower, indicating that someone had come too far into the tunnel. "Let's see who this is."

The mirror clouded again and showed the face of a handsome man with black hair.

"That's him," Ellen breathed.

"Who?"

"Zaad."

"Perfect. Shall we go meet him?"

Ellen squealed, "No! You don't understand! He's got a Rod of Death!"

"Okay, then you stay here. You can watch through the mirror if you like."

"But--"

"Relax, I'll be all right."

Ellen's protests were cut short by Rohar's swift exit of the room. Nervously, the woman glared at Zaad's image through the mirror as she muttered a prayer for the apparently unwise Archmage.

"Open this gate!" demanded Zaad.

The Archmage Rohar came to stand face-to-face with him, the portcullis separating them. "Why should I?"

"Because if you don't, I'll zap you with this!" He brandished the Rod of Death.

"Are you really stupid enough to zap that thing at me?"

Zaad lowered his arm in confusion. "Why? What do you mean?"

"I'm wearing an Amulet of Reflection, you dope."

"Oh. Then I guess I won't zap you. Okay, how about this, then? Would you kindly open the portcullis?"

"No. You can just rot in here."

Zaad made a face. "You're hiding one of them Terrans in there, aren't you?"

"Frankly, that's none of your business." Rohar turned on his heel and left, returning to the workshop.

"You're just gonna leave him in there?"

"Serves him right."

Ellen turned to the mirror and watched as Zaad pulled a scroll out of his pack, read it, and promptly vanished. "What? He had a Teleport Scroll?"

"Word of Recall, more likely. Too bad, though," muttered Rohar. "I really would have loved his company. Well, you can't win them all."

Sighing, Ellen turned away from the mirror. "What now?"

"I'm going to start fashioning some more Amulets of Reflection and preparing some other spells and items," Rohar told her. "Head upstairs and stay wherever you like. You'll know the minute anyone arrives."

"All right," Ellen muttered, climbing the staircase.

* * *

Ellen was awakened the next morning by a tremendous clang. Bringing herself to the feet, she climbed down the stairs. "Who's at the gate?"

Rohar barely glanced at her. "The guy with the headphones."

"Ocsid? Where is he now?"

"Somewhere around here. I let him in."

Ellen grumbled something, still not fully awake. "What's for breakfast around here, anyway?"

"I've got an apprentice that cooks," shrugged the Archmage. "See if you can find her. Just shout `Gretas' at the top of your lungs and she should show up sometime today."

Ellen shouted, "Gretas!" several times as she climbed the stairs. Suddenly, a woman wearing an apron nearly ran into her.

"Oh, you poor dear. Have you eaten yet?"

"No, the Archmage instructed me to shout `Gretas,' and you'd appear."

"I'm Gretas. Come over to the kitchen, then, dear. I have some porridge cooking," the woman smiled maternally and ushered Ellen down a hallway.

Ocsid was sitting at one end of the long, battered table in the Tower's mess hall. Upon seeing her, he leaped to his feet and declared, "Good morning, Ellen!"

Mildy startled, Ellen blinked sleepily. "Yeah, it is a pretty good morning, isn't it? I see you made it here alright."

"Of course!" shouted Ocsid. Everyone in the room turned to glare at him for a moment before returning with a sigh to what they were doing.

"Here's your porridge, dear." Gretas placed the bowl and a spoon before her. "And please restrain your friend from doing anything that might cause the poor apprentices from losing their appetites."

Ocsid spontaneously started laughing so hysterically he fell off his bench and was rolling on the floor. Ellen smiled and sighed, "Don't mind him, he just likes being flamboyant at times."

"I'll say!" grunted one of the apprentices.

Ellen sat down and began to eat her porridge. "You can get up now, Ocsid, the joke's over."

Ocsid reluctantly returned to his seat. "Sure, take all the fun out of a guy's life." He giggled. "You know, this porridge has a very, um, interesting flavor to it."

"Nobody cares," Ellen muttered. "The others should be arriving here shortly. Within the next few weeks, at least."

"I heard about that incident with Zaad yesterday," Ocsid mentioned soberly.

"Thankfully we have Rohar on our side."

Ocsid nodded, staring into his bowl. "I think she added some sort of herbs to give it this particular flavor."

"You sure know how to change the subject," the Terran woman commented.

"Excuse me," Ocsid murmured, standing.

"Where are you going?"

"I'm going to locate a closet."

"Whatever for?"

"I need some privacy. I want to be alone right now."

Ellen shrugged and took another bite of her porridge. "Let me know if you find out anything interesting. I'm beginning to think I'm the only normal person in this world."

"Don't worry, Ellen, you're not."

"Normal or the only one?"

Ocsid giggled again and left the mess hall. Ellen intentionally did not look to see which way he went. She was used to her friend's idiosyncrasies.

Gretas shuffled up to the end of the table and asked, "Where's he going, dear?"

"To a closet," muttered Ellen.

"Didn't he like the porridge?"

"He said it was interesting and analyzed it. Don't let that bother you, he's just like that. I liked it, myself"

Gretas smiled. "You're a sweet girl. Here, I'll take your bowls."

"That's okay, Gretas. I'll get them." Ellen picked up the two bowls. "Which way?"

Gretas pointed, and the Terran headed off in that direction. She came to the kitchen quickly enough, where she deposited the bowls with some other dirty dishes. Heading back toward her room through the narrow, twisting passages, Ellen noticed a little nook in which someone could easily hide. Spurned by a sudden urge, she ducked inside the niche and crouched in the shadows. Not a minute later two women talking paused by her hiding place to argue.

"I tell you, Calring, she's gonna do something crazy sooner or later!"

"You worry too much, sister."

"I don't trust her."

"Neither do I, but she's not the kind of person who--"

"Yes she is! She'd do anything!"

"She's not like that, Mithring. She's our sister."

"Just wait and see for yourself!"

"Wait for what? A thousand years and nothing will come of it!"

"I think she's hiding something in the dungeon."

"Oh, come now, Mith. Even she wouldn't be stupid enough--"

"Oh yes she would! I've seen some of the--"

"What are you saying?"

The woman lowered her voice. "She's been practicing the dark arts."

"Which dark arts were you refering to?"

"Necromancy."

A long pause. "Let's not mention that again, sister. I'm sure Morring hasn't done anything that extreme."

The women moved on until it was impossible to make out the words. Ellen silently chided herself for eavesdropping, but was now very curious about this Morring person and what she might be hiding in the dungeon. As for the necromancy part, Ellen didn't even know what the word meant. Shrugging, Ellen pulled herself out of the niche and returned to her quarters.

* * *

As Ellen was reading one of the books in the small reading room she had converted into her quarters, she heard a rap at the door. Sighing, she stood and slid the bar open that locked the door. A woman with a nasty-looking sword strapped to her side entered.

"Hello?" said Ellen.

"Hello there," drawled the stranger, striding into the room.

"My name is Ellen--"

The swordswoman clasped Ellen's hand and shook it firmly. "Tharpie, at your service."

"Um, please come in. Make yourself at home," the Terran invited unnecessarily, as Tharpie was already doing just that.

"Nice place you got here," Tharpie commented, plopping herself down in a chair. "Never was much of a bookworm myself, but hey! Whatever you want, around here. Rohar's a great guy."

Ellen sat down, nervously eying Tharpie's odd sword. "You're not gonna be using that, are you?"

"This? Naw. Never killed no one who weren't trying to kill me first."

Ellen let out a long breath and relaxed somewhat. "So what brings you here?"

Tharpie leaned back in her chair. "I been travelling west of here, and I heard about you Terrans. But when I came east I found that you hadn't gotten this far yet, so I decided to wait here for you. Rohar would be the logical person to come to. He's a great guy."

"You've already said that," muttered Ellen, but Tharpie continued.

"Well, not really 'logical.' Poor choice of words, maybe. I could say the best person to come to, but really he's the only person."

"Only?" Ellen wondered.

"Yep. Not one of the other Archmages around here sympathyzes with you Terrans. I think you might have noticed that already."Ellen recalled the last Archmage she had visited, whose name was Ebenezer. "I'd noticed that. But why would Rohar be any different?"

Tharpie leaned close, as if sharing some awesome secret. "Because he understands where you are coming from. He's not the nephew or daughter or what-have-you of some great Archmage. Most of the Archmages started out that way. They get puffed-up opinions of their own greatness. Rohar started out tending sheep. He's a half-elf who never knew his real parents, adopted by an old shepherd who already had a dozen or so natural children. Then a sorceress discovered his talent for magic and sent him to the former Master of this Tower."

"How did you learn all this?" Ellen asked.

Tharpie gave a sly smile. "I have some contacts here and there."

"I take it your primary business is not with that sword," muttered the Terran.

"That's right," Tharpie winked.

"But why were you waiting here for me?"

Tharpie chuckled. "Thought you'd never ask." She pulled a yellowed parchment out of her jacket and handed it to Ellen.

The paper was covered with unintelligible scribbles. "What's this?"

"Read it," Tharpie said.

"I can't," Ellen moaned. "What's it say?"

"I have no idea," the swordswoman admitted. "The Masterharper gave it to me."

"Masterharper?"

"Archmage. Different kind of magic, though."

"How so?" inquired Ellen.

"The magic is in the instrument and the song rather than the person using it. Anybody can learn it if they can get an instrument. The Masterharper told me to come here and give that note to the first Terran that arrives. You're it. Apparently he wants to work with you or something. Don't ask me. I'm just the messenger."

"Maybe Rohar can decipher this," the Terran woman muttered.

"Go for it." Tharpie stood up. "I'll keep in touch, friend." She left the room.

Ellen stared at the strange scribbled note and realized that what she had at first taken to be meaningless squiggles were actually some sort of runes. "I'll go ask Rohar. He'll know how to read this."

The passages outside her quarters seemed to have altered somewhat, but she had little trouble finding the alchemy room where the Archmage was working. Rohar greeted her briefly without looking up. "Help yourself to some tea. Made a new pot this morning. Helps me focus."

Ellen poured herself a cup of tea and sat at his table. "What are you doing?"

"I've been talking to some of the Archmages near here, and I don't like it." Rohar made a face. "Whenever I mentioned Terrans to the ones west of here, they got nervous and quick-eyed, as if they were concealing something. The ones to the east know little, if anything, of you. I fear for the safety of your friends, Ellen. Zaad has apparently pulled a few strings among the Archmages. He hates you with a vengeance." Rohar sighed.

The Terran was silent, sipping her tea. "What do you think he'll do?"

"I don't know," Rohar admitted. "What's that paper?"

With a start, Ellen realized that she was still holding the note. "I was going to ask you, but I forgot. Can you decipher this?"

The Archmage took the parchment from her. "Harper's runes," he commented. "Yes, I can read this. Masterharper String in Gurtall Province is offering to teach you harper-magic."

"Where is Gurtall Province?" asked Ellen.

"Just east of Hilddmei Province."

Ellen wasn't entirely certain where Hilddmei Province was, either. "I'm fascinated by the offer, but I have no gift for music. Ocsid, on the other hand, is a great lover of music, and can play a number of instruments proficiently. I think he may be interested."

Rohar nodded, put down the paper, and got back to work. "You know where he is?"

"No idea," Ellen shook her head. "He'll turn up eventually."

The Archmage sighed heavily, clenched his eyes shut, then blinked them open again. "Could you go now? I need to concentrate."

"Alright," Ellen replied quietly, returning upstairs.

"Ellen!" Ocsid practically ran into her. They skidded to a halt in the narrow second-level hallway.

"What is it, Ocsid?"

"I was looking for you."

"So was I. Looking for you, I mean."

Ocsid was breathing hard. "It's the others. They're in trouble. Or, they're gonna be. I'm not sure. It's Zaad. He's--he's--" Ocsid broke off.

"What is it, brother?" Ellen asked quietly.

Ocsid swallowed hard and shook his head. "Why were you looking for me?"

"Masterharper String has offered to teach you harper-magic."

The Terran man blinked. "Who? What's harper-magic?"

"Magic in music. The spells are actually songs."

"Cool!" Ocsid grinned. "Where is this String fellow?"

"Gurtall Province. Somewhere east of here."

"I'll go, if only to learn something more of this harper-magic. It sounds fascinating." His eyes betrayed a hint of nervousness, however.

"You should be safe to the east. Those who wish to harm us are west of here. We've gotten one step ahead of them, for now."

Ocsid seemed to relax a little. "I'll go right away. Wouldn't want to keep the Masterharper waiting, now would we?" He smiled.

"No, that we wouldn't." Ocsid went downstairs.

* * *

Ellen wandered about Rohar's Tower looking for her room. Somehow, the entire layout of the Tower had changed, rearranging the architecture. Then, quite literally, she ran into Tharpie.

"Hey there!" Tharpie greeted.

"Hello, Tharpie," muttered Ellen, blinking.

"What's the problem? You look flustered."

"Can't find my room."

"Hallways moved around?"

Ellen nodded. "What's going on here, anyway?"

"Never spent much time in a Tower before, right?"

"How can you tell?"

"All Towers shift around their corridors," Tharpie explained. "To keep anyone from taking over, I guess."

"Then how do I find my room?"

"You don't."

Ellen glared at her. "That's not very helpful."

"Sorry," the swordswoman smiled. "You could try heading down to the first floor and starting from scratch, though."

"And how do I get down there?"

"Go down a laundry chute," Tharpie told her.

"You can't be serious."

Tharpie shrugged. "Hey! Whatever works." She wandered off.

"Laundry chute," muttered Ellen. "What does she think I am, crazy?"

Nevertheless, she search for a chute to take her down to the base of the Tower. Finding one, she felt mildly ridiculous as she climbed in. Gravity took over and pulled her down the stinky chute, which she suddenly realized what not for laundry. Ellen landed in a pile of filth.

"Yuck," groaned the Terran as she climbed out of the garbage. "Where am I, anyway?"

"You are in my dungeon."

Ellen searched for the source of the voice, but was unable to see anything in the dim light.

"Who are you?"

A few unintelligible words, and a light flared in the darkness. "I am Morring."

Morring was a startlingly beautiful elven woman, her long black hair framing narrow grey-blue eyes. A shining dagger flashed in her hand.

"What business have you in my dungeon?" demanded the sorceress.

"No business. I came here by mistake."

"Mistake indeed." Morring took a step toward her, holding the knife to her chin. "I ought to kill you, and add you to my army."

Ellen stood firm, and did not reply. The Terran and the sorceress stared at each other for a few long minutes. Suddenly, Morring wrenched her dagger away and flung it to the ground.

"You are not afraid!" cried Morring, her voice taking on a tone of panic.

"Why should I be?"

"You have no idea what I could do to you!"

"You can't do anything to me," Ellen spoke as calmly as she could.

Morring spat at her feet. "I hate you."

"I'm sure the feeling is mutual."

The elven sorceress was trembling while Ellen desperately stayed calm. "I don't know what you are, but--"

"I am a Terran."

Morring sighed, closed her eyes, and breathed deeply. Opening her eyes again, she declared, "Your ignorance is astonishing, and your stubbornness even moreso. If you had any inkling of what i could do to you, you'd be terrified." The elf appeared very disturbed about this.

"My name is Ellen."

Shrugging, the sorceress announced, "Well, it's like they say. If you can't beat them, join them. And I certainly can't beat you."

"Join me?" Ellen repeated, surprised.

Morring just stood there and sized her up for several minutes. "So you're a Terran?" Morring purred. "I should have known. Terra's a strange place. I spent some time there a while back myself. Before the Elkandu scattered."

"The what?"

"Never you mind about that," the elf snapped. "The Elkandu as they once were no longer exist, so it's nothing for you to concern yourself about."

"I've never heard of them anyway," Ellen admitted.

"They created the Portal you came through to get to the world of Towers."

"The what?" asked Ellen again.

"Portal. You must have come through a Portal, since there's only one Nexus currently active."

The Terran was boggled by these strange terms. "I'm sorry, but I don't know what you're talking about. I have no idea what a Portal or a Nexus might be."

"Uneducated in more things than one, huh?" Morring cooed. "Maybe I'll explain later. What brings you to this part of the world, anyway?"

"We were fleeing from Zaad."

"Zaad? Who might that be?"

"He's got a Rod of Death, and he's going around zapping anyone who won't do what he says," she explained.

"Rods of Death can't hurt that which is already dead," Morring commented.

"Already--" Ellen began, then halted in horror as she realized what the sorceress was saying. "Oh hell, Morring, what have you done?"

* * *

Ocsid rode out of Rohar's Tower into Hilddmei Province. This region of Khiszalr was primarily open highlands, whose chill winds seeped beneath Ocsid's cloak and forced him to wrap it more tightly about him. The man was in no particular hurry to reach Gurtall Province, but thought it prudent to hasten himself nonetheless.

That night, he came to a squalid town called Umber. Much as he distrusted going into such a town, Ocsid had little choice. Fingering the silver cross beneath his tunic, he entered the town.

Finding a safe place to stay the night, however, proved more difficult than he had anticipated. He immediately rejected half of the inns in Umber for reasons of cockroaches or rats. Then he spotted an inn that had a harp carved into the door. Curious, Ocsid entered the building.

"Welcome to the Inn of the Harp," greeted a tall woman carrying a hand-held harp. "I am Dulcimer, the proprieter."

"I'm looking for a place to stay for the night," Ocsid told her tentatively. "One with safe lodgings and vermin-free bedding."

"Then you have come to the right place," Dulcimer smiled.

"I should hope so," Ocsid commented. "There are people behind me who would like to kill me."

"Nobody will harm you under this harper's protection," Dulcimer told him as her fingers ran over the harp's strings, playing out a soothing melody.

Ocsid breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm going to learn with the Masterharper String." He showed her the note.

"That's why I'm here," explained the proprieter, looking over the message, then handing it back. "I set up the Inn of the Harp as a refuge for my brothers and sisters of musical inclination. You may stay here free of charge."

"Thank you," the Terran man said quietly.

The innkeeper handed him a key. "You're room is number six, down that hallway, third door on your right."

Ocsid nodded, took the key, and went to his room.

The next morning, Ocsid woke as the sky began to grow light. The world of Khiszalr had no sun; rather, the sky itself would glow and fade in a mere simulation of day and night. This phenomenon had unnerved the Terrans at first, but now they had grown used to it. However, every time the sky imitated dawn, Ocsid wished that he could see the sunrise again someday.

He stretched and returned his room key to Dulcimer and bid her farewell, and continued on his way.


End file.
